


Weak as a Kitten

by quirkthescribbler



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Cat/Human Hybrids, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, M/M, Soft Boys, demons doing cute shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkthescribbler/pseuds/quirkthescribbler
Summary: Or, alternatively: five times Husk definitively hated his cat-demon form (and the one time he was okay with it)
Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 124





	Weak as a Kitten

Ever since Husk had died and fallen into Hell, he had always been at odds with the form... given to him? The form he was cursed with? It sure felt like a curse sometimes. 

The wings were fine. If anything, they were probably the part of his demon form he liked the most. They were convenient when he needed a quick getaway, and they added flair to his magic tricks (or provided a good distraction when he cheated at cards). But they were cumbersome, and shit, Husk was so damn lazy anyway he barely used them. At least they looked cool.

His claws were all right, too. Didn’t need a bottle opener to get into a bottle of booze; he’d perfected the art of using his claws to get the caps off. And they definitely added to the whole _don’t fuck with me_ vibe he was going for.

What did not go with the _don’t fuck with me vibe_ was the fact that the rest of him looked like a goddamn housecat who had spent way too much time walking on his hind legs trying to act like its owners. Even after decades to get used to his form, he was still coming to terms with it - oftentimes, at the (great) expense of his reputation.

Well, he was in Hell. Maybe this was a part of his punishment too.

\--*--

**_Box_ **

Vaggie struggled with a cart of supplies for the hotel, wheeling them into the lobby on a trolley that squeaked far too loudly for Husk to deal with at 9:30 am while also nursing a constant hangover. “Bar delivery,” she announced, less than thrilled, as she placed four six-packs of beer, a keg, and a large case of liquor on the counter.

Husk winced as the bottles clanked loudly on the bar. “Try ta keep it down, will ya?”

Vaggie rolled her eyes and shoved the boxes toward Husk, paying no heed to his request. “Just try to get these put away and the boxes thrown out, okay? I’ve gotta get these cleaning supplies to Niffty, restock the kitchen, and then I have a meeting. Otherwise I’d at least help you empty them out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Husk muttered as he got to work and Vaggie rolled her damned squeaky cart away. The sooner he got this shit organized, the sooner he could go back to drinking and napping. The beers he placed in the fridge under the bar; the keg was soon hooked up to a tap. He carefully went through the liquor box, taking note of what Vaggie was buying (mainly so he could scold her if she got anything that tasted like straight ethanol - he liked cheap booze but even he had his limits). Not seeing anything particularly heinous except for one bottle of cheap pink lemonade vodka, he arranged the bottles with care, making sure all of the labels were facing out. When he was satisfied, he broke down the cardboard six-pack carriers and threw them in the larger liquor box, setting them just to the side of the bar to take to the dumpster later.

Husk pulled out a lowball glass and poured himself a serving of breakfast scotch. Grabbing a rag, he started wiping down the bar, if for any reason to have something to do. As he sipped his drink, his eyes kept cutting over to the boxes.

He really wanted to keep the big one, and he didn’t really know why.

It was something bigger than his rationale telling him to do it. Something instinctual… which usually meant it had nothing to do with what was left of his human brain. He tried to ignore it. He _really_ did.

Yet here he was now: standing in a box… behind the bar… _like a dumbass._

He hated that he felt better for it. He hated more that he still didn’t feel _quite_ right.

Fuck it, he was at least going to finish what he started before giving into his baser instincts.

He kept wiping down the bar, only going so far as the box would let him, every now and then moving it so he could reach the rest of the countertop. Once he finished - which didn’t take long, considering he was only half-assing the job in the first place - he kicked the box into the corner and glared at it.

And then, grumbling, he grabbed his glass of scotch and curled up in the damn thing like it was his own bed.

And _fuck_ if it didn’t feel right.

He continued to sip his drink, enjoying the calm in the hotel lobby, his quiet corner, tail swaying contentedly. He rested his head on the shelf behind the counter, closing his eyes and sighing. If he dozed off, no one needed to know.

He woke up to a familiar voice calling his name. “Oh Husky, where ya at? I need a drink before I head off to work!”

Husk bit back the groan threatening to reveal his hiding spot. Maybe if he just stayed quiet, Angel would go away and not bother him.

If only he could be so lucky.

“Husk! Where the fuck--” Angel cut himself off with a gasp.

Husk cracked an eye open and looked up, dismayed to see Angel peeking over the edge of the bar. “Waddaya want?”

Two of Angel’s hands were pressed against his temples, his eyes wide, almost manic. “Oh my fucking god, this is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

The old cat narrowed his eyes. “If you still want a drink I’ll make ya one, but you hafta swear you didn’t see any of this,” he tried to bargain, motioning to his position in the box.

Angel’s expression didn’t change, but Husk saw one of his extra hands creep over the edge of the bar, phone poised to snap a picture. He jumped up, trying to grab the offending device, but Angel was too quick and pulled it away, checking his photo gallery and cackling victoriously. “Oh, I am _so_ making this your contact photo!”

_“I’M GONNA MAKE YOU EAT THAT PHONE!”_

\--*--

**_Crash_ **

Vaggie and Charlie sat at the bar with two glasses of water, chatting (as they did often) and Husk was doing his best to tune them out. It wasn’t that he disliked them per se, but they were just too goddamn cheerful. 

Well, Miss Princess was, anyway. But Vaggie was almost just as bad, encouraging her all-too-happy ramblings and looking at her with stars in her eyes, like she hung the fucking moon. It was _gross._ Too touchy-feely for him, anyway.

“I just think we’ve gotta do something to get people in the door! Like a game night, or maybe a movie showing? Oh!! What about a _talent show?!”_

Vaggie smiled warmly, reaching to link her fingers with Charlie’s. “I think it’s a great idea, hun. Maybe a bit unorthodox, but I definitely think it would drum up interest.”

“I could sing!” Charlie exclaimed, clearly thrilled with her own idea. “You could throw knives at a moving target! Oh, maybe Niffty could do a dramatic reading of one of her stories!” Husk had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at _that_ thought--if Charlie wanted to rehabilitate sinners, the last thing she needed was to have the one-eyed demon girl reading her _erotic fanfiction_ to a crowd. “Husk, would you do some magic tricks for the show?”

As much as he loathed the idea, he also couldn’t deny that he loved showing off his sleight of hand when he got the chance, and the opportunities for him to do that were getting slimmer now that he wasn’t gambling at the casinos as much. “I _suppose_ I could put somethin’ togetha.” Charlie squealed, and Husk smirked as another thought popped into his head. “I bet you could get Legs to do a dance for ya.”

“That’s a _great_ idea!” exclaimed Charlie, but Vaggie looked alarmed.

“Yeah, it’s a great idea, as long as we convince him to keep his fucking clothes on. The last thing we need is this place turning into an exclusive brothel for Angel.”

Charlie tapped her chin in thought. “I wonder what Al can do…”

Vaggie rolled her eyes. “He can run sound backstage and stay out of sight.”

“Oh Vaggie, there’s so much to do! Come on, let’s head to the conference room and start writing down these ideas!” She downed the rest of the water in her glass and placed it on the bar, sliding it over to Husk…

… Who immediately batted it away with a paw, causing the glass to slide off the bar and shatter with a _crash_ on the tile.

“Whoa Husk, what the hell was that for?” Vaggie asked frustratedly as she gestured to the mess on the floor.

“Uhhh--” Husk’s wide eyes darted around the room, not sure how to explain the sudden urge he’d had to smack the glass off the table without sounding like a loon. “Don’t--don’t worry about it, I’ll clean it up.”

“Yeah you will,” Vaggie mumbled, carefully placing her own glass near Husk, and _fucking hell_ he had to stop himself from knocking that one over too. “Come on, Charlie, let’s get to work planning this thing.”

Once they were out of sight, Husk let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding and shuffled to get the broom and dustpan.

_Fucking cat impulses._

\--*--

**_Blep_ **

Husk was so. Fucking. _Bored._

It had been so quiet all day, which normally he didn’t mind. Hell, he’d welcomed it. But ever since he’d come down to man his post for the day, he hadn’t seen a soul. If he didn’t know for a fact that the annual cleanse had happened just a few months ago, he might have thought everyone else in the hotel had been exterminated during the night.

He rearranged the bottles on the shelf. Took inventory of the liquor. Polished the bar countertop. Played five games of solitaire (won three of them), three games of Forty Thieves (won all of them), and two games of La Belle Lucie (lost both of them). Swept and mopped behind the bar.

He’d done it all, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

He leaned on the bar with a huff, resting his chin in his paw, and daydreamed about what he would do if he wasn’t tied to this desk, to this hotel, to that pompous red son of a bitch. He missed the casinos so much - the bright lights, the excitement of winning a huge pot, the thrill of cheating and getting away with it. He loved impressing drunk guys and dolls with simple card tricks that left them oooo’ing and aahhh’ing and hanging off his arms (even if he did shrug them off when he got annoyed with them).

The best was when he could take an egotistical jerk who’d gotten a streak of good luck for everything they were worth. Whether through cheating or just plain ol’ outplaying them, there was _nothing_ better than the look of shock, anger, and frustration when an asshole’s luck ran out. Karma was a bitch, and maybe that made him a bit of a sadist, but that come around was just so _sweet--_

Husk blinked and focused his eyes to see Niffty standing on the bar, eye level with him, his tongue held between her thumb and forefinger.

Husk jerked backwards, spluttering. “What the hell are ya doin’, Nifty?!”

She giggled. “You must have been somewhere really far away in that brain of yours! You had that thousand yard stare with a blep and everything!”

Husk furrowed his brow. “A thousand yard stare and a _what now?”_

“A blep! You know, that thing cats do when they stare into the endless void - like this!” She unfocused her one large eye and stuck her tongue out lazily, apparently doing her best cat impression. “You know, a blep!”

Husk ran his hands over his face and groaned. “Jesus tap-dancing Christ on a pony…”

Nifty patted Husk’s head. “No worries, Husk. This’ll be our little secret, okay?”

\--*--

**_Zoom_ **

“I’m taking a break,” Husk announced as he walked around the bar and headed toward the front doors of the lobby. Something was buzzing annoyingly under his skin, like he’d forgotten something important. He felt… _nervous._

Husk did not get nervous. At least, not without very good reason. He’d felt this a few times since he’d died and ended up down here, and the only thing that would cure his ails at this point was lots of free space and no gawking onlookers.

He started walking around the hotel, arms folded, staring at his feet. He hated it when he got these spells of unrest. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, making windmills with his arms and flexing his wings. Warming up before he really took off.

He’d gone a full lap and a half around the hotel when, looking around to make sure no one was around, he crouched on all fours like a runner about to take off in a sprint. Husk counted down in his head, and once he reached zero, he took off in a mad dash as fast as he could on all fours, rebounding and ricocheting off of the nearby trees and the hotel’s facade.

If he thought too much about what he was doing, Husk knew he’d feel like the stupidest resident in Hell. He knew he looked feral, he knew this was the complete antithesis of everything he tried to exude. But he couldn’t help it. It didn’t happen often, but every now and then, an itch would settle right under his skin and the only way he could settle it was to _go fast._

Maybe it was payback for being the lazy bastard he already was. Cats supposedly did this shit when they had too much energy; maybe his energy banks were overflowing and it had to get out somewhere.

_One more lap,_ he thought as he rounded the corner to start a fifth go-round. _One more lap, and then I’ll be fine, calm down, go back inside--_

He looked up and realized he was about to run headlong into Alastor, who had just stepped through the hotel lobby door. Husk tried to stop but his feet refused to gain any traction, so he raised his arms up over his face to brace for impact, giving a warning shout.

Instead, Husk felt himself lifted into the air - Alastor using his damn voodoo magic - and was unceremoniously dropped on his back on the opposite side of the Radio Demon. Husk stared at the sky, gasping for breath as the air punched out of his lungs, and suppressed a hiss when Alastor walked over and looked down at him, head cocked curiously.

“Husker! My dear fellow, whatever were you running from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that quickly!”

Husk ran both of his hands down his face. “Don’t fucking ask, Al.”

\--*--

**_Chitter_ **

_“The first thing you’ll wanna do is get all your liquors together. You’re gonna need a rye whiskey, some cognac, and a bottle of sweet vermouth. You’re also gonna need some Bénédictine Liqueur, and two different kinds of bitters…”_

Husk rolled his eyes as he continued watching the drink tutorial on VoxTube on his phone. “Of course Alastor wants the fancy-schmancy whiskey cocktail,” he mumbled under his breath. It had been a long time since anyone had asked Husk to make a _Vieux Carre_ , so after his boss had asked for one the night before as a nightcap, Husk decided to take the time to relearn how to make one. Too bad it was probably going to cost an arm and a leg to get that liqueur - it wasn’t exactly easy to find in the Underworld. Although it was possible that Alastor had a hookup who could get him the stuff for cheap. 

Husk continued to watch the tutorial, trying to tune out Angel and Cherri who were sitting on the sofa right next to the chair Husk was lounging in. He found he didn’t actually mind their company too much - Angel had been surprisingly more bearable after the box incident, and Cherri always brought with her a specific brand of chaos that was fun to witness when you weren’t her target. The two of them were bickering over something - Husk wasn’t sure what, and didn’t particularly care to get involved - but it seemed today would be a more relaxed day for the pair, so Husk paid them no heed.

Suddenly, a flash of light caught his vision, but as he tried to track the motion with his eyes, it was gone. He blinked and turned his attention back to his phone, only to have the same flash catch his eyes again and be gone just as quickly. _What the fuck._ “Do you two keep seeing that?”

Angel looked at Husk, thoroughly confused. “Uuhhh, keep seein’ what?”

“That--never mind.” Husk shook his head and turned back to his phone, but not two minutes later the light was back, this time hovering just across the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes and shifted in his chair; maybe there was some kind of glare right where he’d been sitting. 

No such luck. The flash of light was back, flickering just out of his field of vision. It was _really_ starting to annoy him. He kept trying to ignore it, but somehow it always got right in his eyes before flitting away again. 

“Husk, ya sure you’re okay?” Angel asked, no doubt noticing Husk’s tail twitching in annoyance.

“You really don’t see that?”

“See what?” Cherri asked.

“There’s some… light or somethin’ that keeps gettin’ in my eyes!”

“That’s so weird,” Cherri replied, a slight smile to her features, and Angel gave her a sidelong glance. “I haven’t seen anything like that.”

Husk grumbled, sulking. Something was afoot, he just knew it. He went back to his phone, and for a few minutes he thought the whole ordeal was over. 

The next time the light came back, Husk reacted before he could stop himself. Unbidden, a rapid series of chirps left his mouth, high-pitched and staccato, a genuine sign at just how deep his frustration ran.

Now that frustration quickly morphed into embarrassment. Angel was looking at him with wide eyes and an obnoxious smile (was he _blushing?)_ and Cherri was actually snickering… with a small compact mirror in her hand that kept catching the reflection of the overhead light.

Goddamn it. He took back every nice thought he ever had about Cherri. She was a bitch.

“Holy fuck,” Cherri giggled, “he really is a giant kitty, just like you said, Angie!”

Husk felt his stomach drop as heat crept into his face. Of course Angel had blabbed to Cherri and god knows who else about his annoying cat idiosyncrasies. He’d said he wouldn’t but Husk should have known better.

Maybe that was why this particular betrayal stung so much.

“Yeah, yuck it up, assholes,” mumbled Husk as he stood from his seat. “Have a good fuckin’ laugh at my expense.” He quickly made his way over to the stairs, despite Angel calling for him to hold on. He was too mortified and annoyed to listen to the spider.

He really, _really_ hated being a goddamn cat.

\--♡--

**_Purr_ **

“Come on, Husk!” Angel kept banging on the door. “Open up! Let me explain!”

“Why should I? Seems like you’re explaining plenty to all yer friends anyway.”

“That’s not fair - just gimme a chance!”

Husk sat stubbornly on his bed, glaring at his door. Maybe if he just stayed quiet, Angel would leave him alone to wallow in his humiliation.

“I’m not leaving until you open this damn door so we can talk, and I’ve got six hands to keep knockin’ so I hope you’re ready for a fuckin’ terrible drum solo!”

The knocking multiplied tenfold, Husk’s annoyance along with it. He got up and walked over to the door, throwing it open before stomping back to his bed and crossing his arms, not giving Angel a second glance. “The fuck you wanna say?”

Angel stood in the doorframe for a moment before stepping lightly inside and closing the door quietly behind him. “Ya keep your room tidier than I would ‘ave expected.”

The old cat rolled his eyes. “I didn’t invite you in to make small talk or comment on my living quarters or my cleaning habits. I letcha in because yer bein’ an annoying prick, and I’d like to get some semblance of peace and quiet for a while. So again, what the fuck do you want?”

Angel visibly bristled, but if he had a sharp insult at the ready, he didn’t say it. Instead, he let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, crossing his other arms defensively. “I know I told ya I wouldn’t tell nobody about tha box thing--”

“So Cherri’s nobody, good to know, I wonder who else fits into the nobody category--”

“Would you let me finish?!” Genuine distress tinged Angel’s tone, so Husk bit his tongue to keep quiet. “Look. I’m sorry I told Cherri about the box incident, okay? I wasn’t… I didn’t _mean_ to. It just happened.”

Husk furrowed his brow. “How the hell does that information just slip out in casual conversation?”

“Because I talk about you a lot, Husk!” Angel gave an annoyed snarl and ran his hands through his hair. “I talk about you to Cherri, because I trust her… and I like you.”

Husk felt his own scowl soften as Angel stepped closer to him, somehow seeming smaller, shrinking in on himself. “I like ya, Husk. I like ya _a lot._ I thought I was makin’ that clear but either ya don’t feel the same way or we’re just speakin’ different languages. I don’t sit wit’ ya at the bar after I come back from work just because you got booze. I like ya company. I like ya stupid magic tricks. I like the scowl yer always wearin’. I like yer biting sense of humor. I like… I like that ya make me feel like a person, and not an object.” A shy smile and a blush tinted Angel’s features. “And I also like that ya have cute cat mannerisms that remind me of the soft soul you’re hidin’ under that tough exterior.”

Husk tried to process the onslaught of information thrust upon him. This was certainly not where he thought the conversation was going.

But the shift in tone wasn’t unwelcome.

“Ya don’t hafta say anything,” Angel continued, looking more and more sullen. “In fact, I’d probably prefer ya didn’t, if ya don’t feel tha same way. I’ll just… I can…” He trailed off, not meeting Husk’s eyes and headed toward the door. _No, wait--_

Husk lunged and reached for Angel’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. The spider turned to look at him, surprise (and maybe hope?) flitting across his face. “You don’t have to go,” Husk reassured, his voice low. “I… I need a minute but… don’t leave.”

Angel perched on the bed next to Husk, not really making himself comfortable but clearly not planning to leave either. It seemed he was willing to give Husk the time he needed. The old cat was grateful.

“I’m… not good with words,” Husk started. “And I’m _really_ not good with words when I’m trying to express… _feelings.”_ His heart thrummed so loudly he was certain Angel could hear it. He noticed he was grabbing Angel’s forearm; he let go, only to lace his fingers with Angel’s and squeeze softly. He couldn’t meet his eyes - not yet. “Everything you said… it’s ditto for me. Which is probably why I felt so hurt down there.”

“I’m sorry.” Husk had never heard Angel be so sincere. “I’d never want to hurt ya.”

He was quick to reassure Angel. “It’s okay.” Another squeeze of the hand. “We’re okay.”

They sat like that for a few minutes, uncomfortably silent, holding hands, refusing to meet each other’s eyes. “You know,” Husk started, clearing his throat, “I kinda thought if we ever had a moment like this, it’d be a little less… awkward.”

A few second’s pause. “Well,” Angel began, “let’s change that.”

Husk felt Angel’s hands on his cheeks, guiding him to look up directly into Angel’s eyes. He was definitely blushing, but Husk couldn’t say he was much better, if the warmth in his cheeks and ears were any indication. Angel leaned in until they were just a hair’s width apart, still giving Husk an out if he wanted to.

The old cat blinked slowly, and closed the distance between their lips in a tender kiss, wrapping one hand around the back of Angel’s head. He felt Angel inhale sharply and move to deepen the kiss, which Husk gladly welcomed.

When they both pulled away to breathe, Angel rested his forehead against Husk’s, not wanting to be any farther away than that, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Hell, Husk felt… content? Happy? Lucky?

No.

_The luckiest._

Angel giggled and bit his bottom lip. “I didn’t know ya could do that but I’m not exactly surprised.”

“Do what?”

“You were purring just now.”

Husk blinked, his eyes wide. He hadn’t even noticed.

“Please… don’t stop?”

He looked so hopeful, so happy. Who was Husk to say no?

Husk wrapped his arms around Angel’s thin frame and nuzzled his cheek, purring loudly and without abandon. Angel laughed, delighted, and wrapped his own arms around the cat, pulling him down on top of him on the bed.

Husk pulled away to lean over Angel, brushing his hair out of his face. A sudden thought came to his mind. “Why don’t spiders do anything cute?”

“Cuz spiders are supposed ta be scary. Everyone’s afraid of em.”

Husk chuckled, leaning in close once again. “Well then, color me _terrified,”_ he growled, and then the only sounds to be heard were of lips meeting, soft laughter, and _lots_ of loud purring.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> _Deleted scene - one time Angel did not like Husk's demon form: that one night when they were lying in bed and Husk wrapped his arms around Angel in his sleep and then started kicking the shit out of him with his back legs (not unlike[this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Yhr0ZUYCSM))._
> 
> This was a ride to write. The first three or four scenes came to be so easily, but by the time I got to Zoom and Chitter it was like pulling TEETH. Hope y'all enjoyed it anyways - Husk unbiddenly doing cat-like things is my crack and personal headcanon and you cannot convince me otherwise. Stinky cantankerous drunk cat-man is still cute.
> 
> Find me elsewhere:  
> [My Tumblr!](quackquackquirk.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
